


Teach Me Love

by inkedauthority



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, F/F, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-24 14:51:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13813479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkedauthority/pseuds/inkedauthority
Summary: How would anyone have guessed that the exchange student Regina Mills would be the one to Make Miss Swan's head turn?Written for OUAT Winter Femslash Exchange 2018.





	Teach Me Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DelicatePoem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelicatePoem/gifts).



> I wrote this in a hurry since the original story I was supposed to upload is longer than I expected, so I hope you enjoy this one instead. I tried to stick to the prompt tags and came up with this highly sexual student/teacher erotica thingy.
> 
> For DelicatePoem, who I hope likes student/teacher erotica thingies.

_For Victoria_

* * *

 

 

Regina fidgets in her seat, the wood of it cutting into her thigh where her skirt doesn’t cover. The sign opposite her on a door she has never been called to before says: PRINCIPAL, and inside sits her mother.

 

She’s nervous, unsure as to why this is a crime—only it is in the code of conduct and she’s taken one too many steps in the wrong direction. Although, to be fair, Regina has had the most delectable temptress, and with each experience, she fell further.

 

XXX

 

**One: The Look.**

 

Tucked away in a mountainside, there sits a school prestigious, pretentious, and proud. Within it are two hundred and fifty girls, each carefully chosen and screened with the intention of upholding the school’s name. Eighty staff members are employed—twenty five admin, forty educators, fifteen maintenance.

 

How are they supposed to know of the scandalous relationship that could shake the very foundations of their institution?

 

One staff member, a Miss Emma Swan, is of good height and strong bone structure. She claims to be from a catholic upbringing, and the church she attends religiously on the second Saturday of every month confirms this. Her questionnaire states that she is still very much a virgin, and will remain so until such time that she is married.

 

Perhaps it is that which leads her to be employed, for her silky blonde hair and long legs tucked in heels made the nuns who run the school a tad bit nervous.

 

It is also the very same reason most of the girls rush to Miss Swan’s class, her geography lessons filled to capacity and doing rather well. The girls have to of course listen if they want to stare, and stare they do when Miss Swan saunters into her classroom with three girls behind her carrying her bags, heels clicking on the stone floor and hair bouncing lusciously with every step.

 

Most of the girls may have fantasies of Miss Swan, but Miss Swan has no fantasies of them—not until Regina, the late transfer with dark skin and even darker hair, soulful eyes and an accent that has Miss Swan listen that much more intently.

 

One thing Emma Swan did not put on her questionnaire is that the reason she is still a virgin is because she has not let a man touch her, not when women are far more delicious.

 

“What have you learnt so far in your curriculum?” Miss Swan asks, her hand too close to Regina’s and her blouse opened one button too much. From Regina’s vantage point she can see a peek of lace, but her eyes snap to the book in front of them instead.

 

“We have done soil types, I believe we were on the volcanic residue last.”

 

“Oh?” Miss Swan says, the sound almost a question, as if she’s impressed with something Regina cannot quite understand. Her focus remains on the textbook, but then she’s assaulted with the smell of cinnamon when Miss Swan stands to lean against the desk, that sinful button in direct line of Regina’s sight.

 

“You are quite far ahead, I suppose you could focus on other subjects in the meantime. Probably your _biology_ , there are too many Latin phrases in there.” If Miss Swan crosses her arms and seems to be holding herself tightly, then Regina thinks nothing of it at the time, not when the cleavage wrapped in lace is seen properly now, and there’s something here that Regina doesn’t quite understand.

 

“I-I have to go to class,” Regina stutters, taking a few deep breaths and wondering why she likes this scent so much.

 

“I’m always here if you need me,” Miss Swan says, and there’s something in her eyes that Regina desperately wishes she could read, but the bell rings and she runs to math instead.

 

When she sees Miss Swan later that day, her blouse is buttoned up appropriately and the perfume Regina likes so much isn’t as strong. When she speaks to other girls who coo over her like a celebrity, there isn’t any hunger in her eyes, or maybe that’s Regina projecting something that shouldn’t be there.

 

XXX

 

**Two: The Care.**

 

Regina falls sick during the summer. The weather is erratic and she isn’t used to the dry heat that leaves her throat scratchy and lungs wheezing.

 

The protocol is to go to their dorm mistress and report any illness, but when Regina knocks upon Sister Astrid’s door, none other than Miss Swan opens. It’s a sight that has her sharply intake a breath, and instead of cinnamon filing her lungs, she has a coughing fit that is neither attractive nor hygienic.

 

“There must be a cough drop somewhere here, come in.” Miss Swan guides her by the waist, her touch gentle and comforting in the sort of way that requires nothing but obedience. Being of stuffy sinuses and heavy chest, Regina is ready to do anything to get rid of this cold.

 

“Where is Sister Astrid?” She asks, her voice scratchy and her eyes drawn to a picture of Sister Astrid and a ginger striped cat on the mantle.

 

“Oh, she has to attend this mass slash meeting, and some of the staff took the nun’s stations for them whilst they’re busy.” The casual way in which Miss Swan talks startles Regina, and when she turns to regard her teacher, the sight of the blonde dressed down has her smile just slightly.

 

“What is it?” Miss Swan asks, pouring cough syrup into a tablespoon.

 

“You look younger dressed like this,” Regina says without thinking, taking inventory of Miss Swan’s bare feet, tracksuit pants and simple grey t-shirt. She looks comfortable, as if there is no need for the mask of makeup or heels here— even her hair is tied back, pushed out of sight.

 

“Is that an insult or compliment?” The cool fingers of her teacher touch her chin, the silence between them stretching for much longer than necessary, and for a moment Regina thinks she’s been dropped into a _telenovela_ , but then she coughs again and the moment is broken.

 

“You just look different—I like the way you look regardless.” And the moment is back, although Miss Swan’s eyes no longer have this hunger in them, there’s something deeper lurking there too.

 

“Open up,” Miss Swan says distractedly, touching her fingers to Regina’s cheek, and Regina complies without thinking the action of being fed cough syrup odd. She’s a big girl, she can do everything on her own without being spoon fed, but this different, and this somehow means more.

 

“Are you rooming with anyone?”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Miss Swan smiles fondly at her, common English terms still a little hard to grasp when they border on slang. “Are you sharing your room with anyone?”

 

“Oh, yes. I share my room with Mallory, she was the one who sent me here.” The reason for that is left out, not when Regina is embarrassed at the fact that Mallory had dragged her by the arm and shoved her outside after a long, loud coughing fit.

 

“You should sleep here tonight, we wouldn’t want Mallory to get sick too, now would we?”

 

“I—Miss Swan, how can I stay here, without Sister Astrid’s permission? A-and you might also get sick.” All valid reasons, Regina is sure, but Miss Swan simply guides her to the couch and makes her sit.

 

“You will stay here. You have my permission, and I won’t get sick.” The authority in her teacher’s voice doesn’t quite fit with the image of a relaxed Emma Swan, but Regina nods her head yes in fear nonetheless and waits for further instruction.

 

A sheet and pillow is produced from a cupboard, Regina made to sit comfortably with a rather soft blanket around her waist, and then Miss Swan does something that has Regina reconsider everything she’s ever known about this woman.

 

“This will help,” Miss Swan says, and Regina knows it will help, she’s used it many times during her childhood, but must Miss Swan administer it? Must she let her fingers dip into the vapour rub so obscenely and move Regina’s shirt lower over her chest?

 

“I can do it,” She tries to argue helplessly, but Miss Swan has already begun rubbing in the menthol smelling balm, the touch soft enough for Regina to bite her bottom lip and hope no sound comes out of her mouth.

 

Pale fingers rub along Regina’s neck, the straining tendons and soft muscles, like little kisses along untouched skin. Miss Swan’s hand moves lower, over her collarbone and into the dip of her throat. It is fine, it’s safe enough for Regina to look at this in the same way her nannies used to apply this when she was sick as a child, but then Miss Swan lifts her shirt, stomach on full display, and Regina knows this isn’t as innocent as she thinks it is.

 

“Miss Swan—”

 

“Shh, this will help. It’s only vapour rub, and I need to put it on your chest. We wouldn’t want your shirt to have any stains on it, now would we?” It’s a flimsy excuse, and Regina desperately wants to jump into something familiar, not this relentless teasing that has her look out of classroom windows hoping to catch a glance of the woman who wants to massage her chest.

 

The other girls will be jealous, but doesn’t Regina deserve to be liked by someone like Miss Swan?

 

Regina herself pulls up the rest of her shirt, and her embarrassment over her exposed chest is soon replaced with confusion. Miss Swan seems to stare for longer than necessary, and then she applies more vapour rub along Regina’s chest, between her breasts and just under them, but she keeps staring as if put under a spell, not touching anything that might make Regina uncomfortable.

 

“They are darker than the other girls,” Regina admits in a whisper, and Miss Swan’s eyes snap up to meet hers. They say nothing to each other thereafter, and Miss Swan’s hands finally move over the handful of breast displayed before her.

 

Regina can see the struggle, but she mistakes the hesitance for disgust, not for the fact that Emma doesn’t want to hide such beauty even if she wants so desperately to touch.

 

“Girls are stupid,” Miss Swan says, and she kneads just a little harder, causing Regina to gasp. One side of her shirt is pulled down and Miss Swan moves onto the other breast, not without another glob of vapour rub that cools against Regina’s hot skin. “You are beautiful no matter the colour of your skin—so beautiful.”

 

If the pressure on her chest increases, and then it’s not entirely Miss Swan’s hand that rests against her now. The older woman seems to have somehow come closer during all of this, and her green eyes bore into Regina’s only a centimetre away. She can feel the soft skin of her teacher’s arm against her stomach, the curve of her breast, and the way her eyes seem to slip from Regina’s brown pupils to her full plump lips.

 

They’re going to kiss, and Regina’s lips barely brush against Miss Swan’s before she turns her head to the side and sneezes.

 

Regina can feel Miss Swan chuckle against her cheek, and before she knows it the moment is broken, the only tangible thing left behind a kiss on her cheek and a soft, “Goodnight, Regina.”

 

When she wakes the next morning, the smell of menthol lingers on her skin, but she is no longer sick and Sister Astrid checks her temperature to make sure.

 

“Where is Miss Swan?” She asks, trying to sound casual but failing spectacularly.

 

“She left when I came back from mass. You were still asleep, child.”

 

XXX

 

**Three: The Tutoring.**

 

Regina is falling behind.

 

It’s been a whole three months since she enrolled at Mountainview Prep School, and already she’s lagging behind with all her subjects. Teachers look at her with disappointment in their eyes but she can’t help it.

 

When she sits at lunch her eye is always out for Miss Swan, and by the time she registers that she must eat, the bell has gone and she has to return to class. Her homework gets disrupted by daydreams, and now she’s gone as far as to time her routes to specific classes just so she can pass by Miss Swan at least three times a day.

 

Regina has never felt so alive and dead at the same time. She’s consumed by these feelings that have no right settling in her heart—and it’s all Miss Swan’s fault.

 

Nevertheless, her mother has yelled at the principal instead of her, and Regina has been set up with after school tuitions with her teachers in either their classrooms, or wherever they prefer, and Regina’s favourite day of the week is undoubtedly Thursdays. On Thursdays she gets into a golf cart and is driven down to Miss Swan’s residence, the size of the building standard to every other teacher’s accommodations, but somehow better looking.

 

Miss Swan is always dressed in the clothes she wore to work that day, and this close Regina can take inventory of what she wears and how she wears it. There are pieces of clothing that Miss Swan has worn three times in a week, but dressed so differently no one has noticed. There are pencil skirts and crisp shirts, neat solid colour heels, sleeper earrings and simple matching necklaces.

 

The look is professional and absolutely stunning. Regina only hopes she ends up looking as good when she’s older instead of the gawky teen with curves in all the wrong places.

 

The front door is open, an invitation for her to enter without a hostess, and Regina obeys by leaving her geography books on the table and waiting.

 

She waits an entirety of ten minutes, and begins to fidget. What she wants to do is snoop around the house and take some collectables to her dorm, but Regina has been raised better than that, and she sits on her hands instead. Maybe this is a test, and the smell of cinnamon is meant to entice her to follow it, but surely…

 

Oh heck, it’s been too long and silent. What if Miss Swan has fallen and is bleeding out somewhere? Isn’t it Regina’s responsibility to at least check on her?

 

“Miss Swan?” She calls, standing up and walking toward the interior of the house. There seems to be no one responding, so Regina does the only sane thing and peers into the bedroom.

 

What Regina does see has her gasp and bump into the door. There, on the bed, is Miss Swan with her hand down her pants and her blouse unbuttoned. What Regina sees is sexual creature who gasps at the intrusion, and then moans with such power that Regina suspects she has reached orgasm.

 

It’s a fact that has her run toward the front door, geography books forgotten on the table and the image of Miss Swan burned into her eyes.

 

Before she can make her escape, the wood is slammed into its frame and clicked to lock. Behind her, Miss Swan leans against her, and Regina is trapped between the cabinet and Miss Swan’s arm. “What you saw,” the older woman starts, “was perfectly natural, everyone does it—I forgot today was Thursday, I am so sorry—”

 

Regina obviously isn’t thinking straight, but the flushed form of her teacher and the quite erotic advances have her act on an instinct she never knew existed up until now. When she slams her lips into Miss Swan’s, the action rough and inexperienced, she doesn’t expect her teacher to reciprocate, but soon enough there’s a tongue snaking into her mouth and fingers in her long dark locks that tug her even closer.

 

The kiss is demanding, possessive, and entirely taken over by Miss Swan.

 

Regina feels as if she’s having a heart attack, because the damn organ is beating so fast she can feel it between her legs—not that she’s much focused on that since Miss Swan’s thigh has taken residence there.

 

Maybe Regina should have taken better inventory of the living room, or the large windows that look toward the girl’s netball field where Mallory walks from toward the dorms. In fact, had Regina’s eyes been open instead of closed when Miss Swan moves her lips toward her neck, or less engrossed in trying to rut against Miss Swan’s thigh, then she would have seen Mallory pause right outside Miss Swan’s home, and run full speed toward the administration building instead.

 

XXX

 

**Four: The Punishment.**

 

“It was my fault,” Regina cries, “I kissed her.” The principal or Mother Superior as she likes to be called sits up straight behind her desk. There’s an air of authority around her that seems to diminish once she makes eye contact with Regina’s mother, Cora.

 

Cora Mills is clearly the disciplinarian in the household, because when Regina is slapped the girl doesn’t flinch. In fact, the slap is the least of Regina’s worries, since her mother seems to have been trained in the art of psychological torture.

 

“Mallory claims to have seen you pressed against Miss Swan’s door, with Miss Swan—” Mother Superior pauses from reading the statement, obviously a few teenage words in there that she doesn’t want to say out loud, “It looked like Miss Swan was the one holding you down.”

 

“I don’t know why you’re protecting that teacher!” Cora yells, and Henry who has sat quietly in his seat this entire time only squeezes his wife’s shoulder comfortingly. Regina knows she has disappointed everyone, but what harm is a little love? So what if she kissed Miss Swan—the important part was that Miss Swan kissed her back, and if she wishes, then… then they can run away together.

 

XXX

 

Emma does not want to run away with Regina.

 

She says she has her entire life ahead of her, a whole career to build, and Regina has far more than Emma ever will. They can make a life away from each other, and that this fantasy of them being more than student and teacher is ridiculous.

 

Regina doesn’t see the longing in Miss Swan’s eyes, but she does begin to hate her, and when Cora moves her out of Mountainview Prep School, Regina is almost glad.

 

 _Almost_ being the operative word here, because as soon as Regina turns eighteen in the next month, she’s married off to an old man with too much money to care about her beyond her looks, and that is how Regina lives until she turns twenty five, Leopold White having fallen down the stairs during a heart attack that has him in a coma for a month, and then sadly deceased.

 

Regina of course had nothing to do with it, but she’s grateful nonetheless for her freedom. He was at least a good and kind man, and had let her complete her education and work within his company to pass the time, but Regina doesn’t feel that being shackled to a man three times her age was an appropriate punishment for a kiss in high school.

 

Needless to say, Regina hates her parents too.

 

XXX

**Five: The reunion.**

 

You know those days where you don’t feel your best, nor look your best, but there’s a small voice in your head that tells you to wash your hair today, that something might happen?

 

Regina doesn’t listen to that voice, mostly because she has a strict wash schedule and refuses to go off it lest her hair begin to fall again—she should have just listened.

 

In the grocery store, browsing through sanitary pads of all things, Regina hears someone moving her trolley. It’s parked out of the way, and she’s standing just there, the least that person can do is politely ask to move past. Turning around with all the rage of a woman with a bad life, Regina comes face to face with someone that looks strikingly familiar.

 

There’s shiny blonde hair, a slash of burgundy lipstick, and high heels that make the tall woman even taller. Regina in her gym tights and messy ponytail only looks on stricken at the one and only Miss Swan.

 

She’s older now, but somehow even more beautiful, and as much as Regina wishes she could hold onto that hate, it’s dissipating with the nostalgia that comes crashing back into her reality.

 

“Oh I’m sorry, is this yours?” Miss Swan asks, and Regina shakes her head _yes_ dumbly. “You look… you look so familiar.”

 

This is the part where Regina wants to say screw grocery shopping and make a run for it, but her legs are frozen in place and she can hear her heart beating in her ears. This feels a lot like fear, and Regina is very afraid that Miss Swan will think her life disappointing from the potential she supposedly had.

 

“I went to Mountainview Prep School,” Regina says softly, a complete opposite to her usual bossy demeanour she had adopted during the three years of taking over her husband’s company. The poor man had been infertile, and the only person he had to leave anything to was Regina. Thankfully, Regina knew the ropes of the company well enough to become accepted as a part of it, only now standing before her high school crush, she’s nothing more than that scared little girl stuttering over vapour rub.

 

“Regina?” Emma asks, bending at the waist because Regina is shorter than her in just takkies—and there she is, in the curve of her lips and the slope of her nose. That’s Regina Mills.

 

“How have you been?” It’s the sort of question strangers would ask, or old aunties who haven’t seen you in a decade, but this is Miss Swan whose lips have been against hers, and whose thigh had given her the first orgasm of her life. She still remembers rutting too hard, and then falling forward on Miss Swan who had whispered _easy now_ , into her ear as they held each other.

 

“Fine,” Regina answers, and she stops herself from asking how Miss Swan is in return. “Are you still teaching,” she goes for, and that seems like a better question.

 

“Lecturing actually. After Mountainview I studied for another two years then got tenure. You look good,” Miss Swan says suddenly, the comment out of the blue especially when Regina feels like she needs to go to the toilet and put a hot water bottle to her uterus.

 

“I’m uh—why don’t you come around for dinner one of the days? We can talk properly in a place that isn’t between tampons and toilet paper.” At this Miss Swan laughs, and if there’s butterflies in Regina’s stomach, then she doesn’t acknowledge it.

 

“I’ll just give you my phone number, it’s—” A card is produced with Miss Swan’s details on it, a handy little thing that Regina takes and places carefully in her purse.

 

“Here’s mine,” she offers, her own business card given to the woman who doesn’t need to be so polite to her, and in retrospect, Regina doesn’t need to be so polite to a woman who let her take the fall for something they both were guilty of.

 

“Chief executive officer of Blanchard industries, _my my_ , Regina Mills, I knew you were special.” Miss Swan surely won’t think of her as special when she learns how the company came into her hands, but the wink that’s sent her way is tucked into her purse as well and not viewed in her minds eye until later that night in bed.

 

She’s getting herself caught up with this woman again, and she knows how this will turn out, but there’s something about Miss Swan that’s so tempting. Regina isn’t a saint, and if she has to eat from the apple then so be it.

 

XXX

 

**Six: The date.**

It’s not a date, or so Regina tells herself, but when she had called Miss Swan over to her too large house, Emma—or so Miss Swan had said to call her—had said: _It’s a date then_ , before she hung up.

 

Now Regina is panicking and there’s a pile of clothes on her bed which she has to put away, and still she hasn’t decided on an outfit that seems appropriate enough. Does she wear heels in her own house or does she go with flats? Is a dress appropriate or is that too formal for an affair that seems… well, Regina isn’t sure what this is, only that it’s dinner with her ex-teacher and former somewhat lover.

 

She finally settles for a simple black dress, a thin necklace clasped around her neck, and black heels slipped over her soles to add on a bit of height. This time Regina wants to make a better second impression, and if she got her hair cut in layers around her shoulders, then she admits to also wanting to look different from the schoolgirl with long tresses and a shy demeanour.

 

“I brought wine,” Is the first thing Miss Swan says when Regina opens the door for her, and Regina is technical enough to frown at the bottle suspiciously.

 

“That doesn’t look like wine.”

 

“No it doesn’t, but _I brought cider_ doesn’t have the same ring to it.” Ah, so this is a date then?

 

“Come in please.” Regina steps aside to allow Miss Swan entry, and accepts the flowers without second thought.

 

“For your home,” Miss Swan clarifies, and Regina smiles all the way to the kitchen where she places them in a vase.

 

XXX

 

“Oh I’m sorry, I—” The match still burns between her fingers, the candle in the middle of the large dining table sitting untouched. “Force of habit, Leopold liked the candlelight during dinner, said it made the room look fuller.” She makes to shake the flame out, but Miss Swan reaches across them to grab Regina’s wrist instead.

 

With both their hands, the candle is lit, the light making Miss Swan’s hair glow golden, the colour only brightening when she brings Regina’s hand close to her lips and blows out the match. “I don’t mind,” She says softly, and Regina blushes as she dishes out pasta.

 

“So, Leopold—your husband?” The question is phrased as if Miss Swan is digging for something deeper, her green eyes darting toward Regina’s left hand where only a slight tan around her missing ring is seen.

 

“ _Was_ my husband,” Regina rectifies, sipping on the apple cider that is honestly refreshing from the usual wine.

 

“Divorcee?” And now Regina knows Miss Swan is definitely fishing, what with the way she allows her gaze to sweep across Regina’s body as if she is now allowed to do so.

 

“Widow,” Regina answers, and Miss Swan’s eyes dart back up to hers, pity lining them like kohl.

 

“I’m so sorry. Do you miss him?” This questioning is entirely one sided and Regina has answers she wants, but she’s so used to Miss Swan taking charge that this feels somewhat natural.

 

“I miss his presence in this large house, at least I knew I wasn’t alone, but I don’t miss him specifically.”

 

Miss Swan stares at her for a long moment, her throat constricting and releasing with the sip of cider she takes. The air around them becomes charged, as if Regina has just said something to make Miss Swan the temptress she wishes to be again.

 

“Did you not love him?” She asks, and Regina stares at her lips as she phrases the question, the low timbre of her voice something to become angry over.

 

“My mother arranged my marriage to him as soon I turned eighteen—punishment for kissing you. His picture is there.” Pointing to a portrait of Leopold, a garland around the frame, Regina knows Miss Swan will see just how much older he is.

 

Miss Swan’s eyes follow her finger, and they widen in shock. “This is because of me?” She asks, and the stricken tone is reminds Regina of the time she had walked in on her teacher vulnerable and with her hand in the cookie jar.

 

“Does it matter?” Because it doesn’t, not when you can’t change the past, and looking at it, Regina has an entire company as payment for her virginity, which isn’t a bad deal when the man she was married to was patient and kind, almost everything she ever wanted in a partner expect his gender and age.

 

“I am so sorry, if I had I known I would have said something, done more.” Miss Swan takes a deep breath, her chair shifting forward to get closer to Regina, “I was selfish, and young, and I wanted to run away with you, but—”

 

“I would have done the same thing.” Regina is glad she paused Miss Swan, because this conversation is entering territory that opens cans of worms that stink, and Regina hasn’t brought any nose pegs to be prepared. “You had your whole life ahead of you, and you didn’t know what my mother would do, but look us now—things turned out somewhat well.”

 

Miss Swan looks defeated, slumping back in her chair with a helplessness Regina has never known the older woman for.

 

“What are we doing?” Miss Swan asks, her voice quiet and small. Regina can only shrug in response, because she doesn’t even know if this is a date or not, and voicing such concerns out loud will shatter something that’s building.

 

“What do you call me in your head?”

 

“Miss Swan,” Regina answers easily, and Miss Swan laughs softly.

 

“It’s Emma,” she says, watching as Regina forces her lips to make the sound, “Em-ma,” she says again forcefully, as if this will change something, and Regina takes a sip of her cider and sighs.

 

“ _Em-ma_ ,” Regina purrs, her gaze intense when she looks to the blonde. Emma nods at Regina approvingly, and Regina smiles like the good girl she is.

 

XXX

 

**Seven: The Firsts.**

They’ve been going out on these dinner things for almost a year now, and Regina knows pretty much everything about Emma, much in the same way Emma knows everything about her.

 

They’ve spoken about work and their past, about the fact that they’re only four years apart in age, their favourite _everything,_ and all Regina’s embarrassing confessions about how Miss Swan had seduced her—in turn Emma had told her of all the ways in which Regina had completely been oblivious to her seductions, and they laughed until things became charged again. Like usual, Regina escapes and Emma becomes uncomfortable with their chemistry.

 

Tonight, Emma has outdone herself, this time taking her out to a high class restaurant with food that has more aphrodisiacs in it than she cares to admit. There are oysters and champagne, strawberries and chocolate, so many things that has Regina giddy by the time Emma drops her at home.

 

“I had a good time tonight.” And how cliché, but Regina doesn’t care, not when she leans into Emma and their eyes connect, Emma’s fingers digging into her hip with a grip that should worry Regina.

 

“Me too, it’s nice to have a friend again.” Regina’s smile freezes in place at the use of the word _friend_ , and she automatically steps away from Emma. Maybe she shouldn’t have put so much feeling into this relationship, not when it obviously couldn’t work out between a student and teacher—no matter how many years have past.

 

“ _Friend?!_ ” It might be her short temper, but Regina is not having a year of courtship with intense eye-sex become some friendship with benefits. “You seduced me when I was your student and let me take the fall for it, and you’re doing it again now! Friends don’t have chemistry like we do, they don’t have this thing between them that makes it heavy, and awkward, and sexual and—”

 

And Emma has her pressed against her front door with their lips fused together.

 

When they stumble inside, Regina has forgotten everything but the lust she feels for Emma, and Emma doesn’t disappoint by providing her with things to moan about.

 

“Oh, _Miss Swan_ ,” Regina lets out, and the frivolities between them pause.

 

“Miss Swan?” Emma asks, chuckling against Regina’s neckline.

 

“In here,” Regina growls, pushing Emma down onto the couch, “you’re Miss Swan.”

 

XXX

 

“People are going to talk,” she says after they’re done, her head resting on Emma’s sweaty shoulder, her fingers lightly dancing across her arm.

 

“Let them talk,” Emma replies, her eyes closed and body relaxed, “who are they to judge our happiness?”

 

And that’s the sort of attitude Regina carries with her through all of their firsts: First public kiss, first time ordering take out, first time visiting each other at work, first time having sex at work, and all the other less important firsts that don’t involve _Miss Swan_ coming out to play again.

 

Although, there is one time where Regina feels a little heartbroken, and yet at the same time overwhelmed with an emotion she can’t explain.

 

It’s May, and Regina has just celebrated her thirtieth birthday with all her friends at a week getaway in Miami, and from the calls to her mobile that’s usually discarded in favour of the beach, Regina knows how much Emma misses her.

 

What Regina didn’t know is what Emma would do with herself during that week, and standing in an apple orchard decorated with fairy lights and lanterns the day she comes back home, Regina is struck dumb when her gorgeous girlfriend stands before her with an open ring box and the most stunning emerald set in a platinum band within.

 

“Let’s run away together,” she says, and Regina’s heart swells three times its size.

 

“Anything for you, Miss Swan.”

 

“ _Mrs_ Swan,” Emma amends, and somehow that sounds so much better to Regina’s ears.


End file.
